


Pink on the Inside

by BC_Brynn



Series: Trust Your Nose [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Big Brother!Itachi, Caring!Kisame, Friendship, Gen, Outlaws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BC_Brynn/pseuds/BC_Brynn
Summary: For most nukenin friendship is a laughable memory from their past. For these two it is something so natural that they didn’t even notice it was there until it was rooted too deeply.





	Pink on the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a moment of relaxation.
> 
> (warnings are in the end note)

Kisame returned from his supply run to the village with a bag full of foodstuffs and a bundle of cloth, which he chucked over the meagre campfire at Itachi’s face.

“Put it on. Maybe it will take you longer to die.”

In Itachi’s hands the bundle resolved itself into a thick, woolen sweater dyed a dark grey that couldn’t truly aspire to blackness. Itachi obediently pulled it on and refastened the Akatsuki cloak over it.

The warmth eased the pressure in his chest almost instantly. He let Kisame see the relaxation of his shoulders and the slight release of tension in his face. That was better than a verbal expression of gratitude.

“Thought you were looking for a cure,” said Kisame, sprawling next to the fire and pulling a pot full of chicken soup out of the bag.

_Chicken soup_.

So much for Kisame’s polite pretence that he hadn’t noticed Itachi beginning to cough out a little blood mixed with the phlegm.

“Who has time for that?” Itachi replied lightly.

“Then what do you even do when you’re off on your own? You’ve got to know the Leader doesn’t like it.”

Itachi extended his hands to the fire. His fingers were ice-cold and achy. “We all have our agendas, Kisame.”

“Yeah, but yours is way too time-consuming. And you leave me behind every time. It gives ideas to suspicious minds. I can’t always cover for you.”

Itachi hadn’t known Kisame had been covering for him. It hadn’t even occurred to him as an option.

He didn’t feel that he had deserved such faith, but perhaps it was time to try and be worthy of it – as much as was reasonable.

“I am simply doing what I have always been doing,” Itachi explained. “Keeping an eye on my foolish little brother. Making sure he does not die.” To be specific, making sure that Sasuke did not die before he had killed Itachi. “Incidentally, I have confirmed that the container of the Ichibi is in Konoha.”

Kisame grinned, sharp-toothed and sharp-eyed. “And when are you going to tell this little tidbit to Leader?”

Itachi looked back, impassive. “When I decide that the time is right, of course.”

“You should not trust me so much,” Kisame admonished.

Itachi brushed his fingers against the scratchy wool that was keeping the chill away from his weak lungs. He would not trust Kisame with _everything_ , of course, but not giving him any trust at all would have been short-sighted.

After all, one day they would all have to decide which of their respective loyalties was the strongest. For Itachi the decision had already been made – it had been made thirteen years ago, in the middle of the Kyuubi’s attack. For Kisame… Itachi harboured a hope that he would not have to kill the man.

“Do not fret,” he rebuked with only a hint of gentle mocking. “I trust you just enough.”

Kisame huffed, faux-offended. “You’re going to get yourself whacked one of these days. Then I’ll tell Leader all your illicitly acquired intel and reap the rewards while you’ll be left to rot in the ground.”

Itachi closed his eyes and almost-smiled. “Do me a favour, Kisame. When I die, make sure my corpse is cremated.”

There was silence for a while, disturbed only by the crackling of the wood consumed by their little fire. Then, quietly, solemnly, Kisame said: “Sure thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: illness, discussion of death


End file.
